


A rest for these tired eyes

by Chlodovech



Category: God of War
Genre: Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Happy Father's Day!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chlodovech/pseuds/Chlodovech
Summary: “You would get a sore neck if you slept like that.”Atreus chuckled, hiding his smile into his father’s chest.“What is one more sore muscle anyway?”Father and son take a well-deserved nap after a tough fight with a tough Dark Elf.





	A rest for these tired eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Father's Day! Kratos is not the best dad but he's trying his hardest, which makes him the best dad. I love this game so much!

“Safe to say that I am done for today.” Mimír chirped from his seat. “Who would have thought a bunch of ugly fellas clad in armor would give us this much trouble!”

Kratos gave out a small grunt as he pushed the canoe off the edge of the platform.

“The Elves proved to be worthy and skillful opponents. Coming here unprepared for a challenge is a mistake.” He mussed and started to row back to the beach, the white-and-silver canoe gliding effortlessly across the deep blue waters of Álfheimr. Mimír grunted in agreement and Kratos glanced at him with eyes as hard as stone. “Which you clearly were. I thought you said—”

“Well, big brother I apologize alright!” Mimír blurted out and his one gold eye shifted to the side. “Before I knowed I was snatched away and off they go wi’ me in them arms!” the Head mumbled, his tattooed lips pressed tightly in clear embarrassment and Kratos thought of launching him into the waters.

“I thought you said you knew where they kept this… Nectar of sorts.” Kratos continued, scanning the area in search of any sort of danger. “Were you lying about it?”

Mimír clicked his tongue, and if he still had a neck he would turn his face away, his ego hurt.

“May Surtr strike my head if I were! The Goldplum is very much there, I know of it…!” he said eagerly and almost certain if not for the worry that wrinkled in his forehead, and his golden gaze fell to focus on some crevice in the bottom of the canoe. Kratos glanced at him again but said nothing and continued to row.

“It must’ve been moved from where it was stored.” Mimír continued a moment later. “I was stuck in that tree for far too long and had no idea how bad things had gotten in here.” He sighed and looked up to the once again blue sky. “Without the guidance of Freyr and his whereabouts unknown, the Ljósálfar might have hidden it away for fear the Dökkálfar got their hands on that powerful little thing.” He grimaced and looked like he wished he could shift in his seat. “An elixir that cures all manner of physical wounds! Hah! What sort of army would not want such a thing ey?”

The God only offered a grunt in response.

“If that is true it means we must go deeper underground to search for it.” Kratos’ brow furrowed. “And face yet stronger enemies.”

“Aye, we do. There is even more o’ those the deeper we go in them hive.” The Head warned, eyeing Kratos. “You ought to bring better armor wi’ you next time.”

The canoe swayed softly as Kratos stopped to inspect his armor.

The quality of the dwarves’ work was beyond anything he had seen, and it withstood the elves’ blows as Brok promised it would until they crossed path with a Heavy Dark Elf.

It was the first of many, Kratos was sure of that, and what a phenomenal adversary. Despite being so much larger than the others it still moved nimbly in the air and struck fast and with force, its lance pushing him far even after Kratos stopped it from piercing him through, and the ranged missiles rendered him blind and burned at his skin. They still succeeded in defeating the elf but now the metal plates on his chest bore scratches and fissures, there were pieces missing from his belt, and his wrist pieces were almost completely torn off.

Kratos’ frown deepened and he fiddled with the metal-plate of the armor in his wrists. If they were to venture deeper underground and find that elixir, he needed a better set.

“You are right. The enemy is resourceful, and so we must be too.”

Mimír hummed and his golden eye shifted to his side, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile under his grizzly beard.

“Indeed they are, and plenty cunning too! If it hadn’t been for the lad my face would be fixed in their breastplate and my eye made into an ugly necklace for that heavy fella.”

Kratos lifted his eyes from his ruined armor to look at Atreus. The boy lay curled in a ball in the other end of the canoe and had his cheek pressed against the cold metal adorning the wood. His face was scrunched, a clue to his discomfort in napping in such tight spot.

He was brave. Despite how brutal the fights were and how chaotic it became once Kratos destroyed the elven hive Atreus followed him restlessly, even when the fear in his eyes was as clear as they were blue.

He had gotten used to using the knife too, Kratos noticed. It was becoming a second nature for him to reach for it in his belt and pierce their enemies, his hand steady and fast and so different to how he was back when they began their journey and were ambushed by Viken, and with every battle he became better with the bow – faster and more precise – and fearlessly choked the weaker ones, like a wolf sinks its claws into the meat of a prey.

“That last fight was tough ey?” Mimír’s voice met the air again with masked worry. “He looks pretty tired.”

Kratos’ olive eyes squinted at Atreus’ sleeping face, staring at the red bruise in his pale cheek. The Heavy Elf was an enemy they didn’t expect to encounter and while Kratos entered the battle with the readiness of a veteran he also saw how for Atreus it proved to be his biggest challenge so far yet: the boy sank plenty of his arrows into the elf’s body and stopped many of its attacks but also stumbled or was knocked out of his feet, and Kratos could still hear his ragged breath as Atreus clung to his back and aimed his bow at every corner when he lost his bearings in the hazy mist of the blinding magic.

After the elf was down with a broken-in head and they resurfaced with empty hands and exhausted bodies Atreus didn’t waste the chance to rest and fell asleep as soon as they made it back to the lake.

“Maybe he should hang back next time?”

Kratos’ averted his eyes from his boy to look at the head again.

“Why would that be?”

“There’s only one eye left in me face but I saw how the lad struggled down there,” Mimír whispered, mindful of the young boy asleep right behind him. “Listen, the Dökkálfar are powerful and there’s no telling that next time he won’t get hurt if we cross paths with a big one again.”

“That will not happen.”

“You saw how smart it fought against you two!” The Head persisted. “He’ll be made into a rag doll if—”

“There are no ‘ifs’ in this scenario.” Kratos interrupted with a growl that rolled out of his mouth and threatened to bare his teeth like a bear would to an intruder in his path. “I will not leave him behind.”

The Spartan turned to face the boy again, noticing how his brow furrowed in a way so like his own. “As his father, I will guide him along this journey no matter where it takes us,” he continued, his voice lower. He watched the boy sleep for a moment, his eyes lingering on how the boy clutched his bow against his small chest in his sleep. “And as my son, no challenge will stop him to become the warrior he wants to be.”

Mimír said nothing but watched Kratos let go of the paddles, the boat swaying slightly as he leaned over to dip one hand in the water. Taking some in his large hand, the warrior took a long and slow gulp, droplets falling on his thick beard. Then his massive shoulders slumped, and he dropped his hand back in the water but didn’t bring more to his lips. He only stared at the deep blue water, his olive eyes blinking slow and seemingly lost in thought.

If he had a neck, Mimír would shake his head. _‘What a stubborn beast.’_

“Good weather isn’t it?” Mimír said suddenly, his voice light and flat. “Now that you got the balance tippin’ for the Ljósálfar again Álfheimr sure is pleasant. Bright sky, soft breeze…” the words drawled from his tongue, his eye looking up at the sky again and not to meet the ones of the God staring at him. “Can’t let this pass, can we?”

And just like that, Mimír closed his eye and fell silent.

Kratos stared at him longer, expecting something else, but it seemed it was this natural for the Head to fall asleep.

He then took a deep breath and leaned back, making the canoe sway softly in the water like a cradle. Atreus on the other end gave a low grunt and shifted again in his spot, trying to find a comfier position.

Kratos studied the bruised skin on his son’s cheek again, remembering the strike of magic against his face. He pressed his lips tightly together and, in slow motion, pulled his hand from the water and leaned over the bench where the Head rested and reached for Atreus, cupping his small face with his wet hand.

The reaction was immediate. Atreus grunted louder and flinched back, tucking his chin to his chest.

“It’s cold,” he muttered in a groggy voice, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his free hand, the other still holding his bow. “Don’t do that.”

“Is it still burning?” Kratos asked, his voice low, watching as the boy finally seemed to get used to the light again. “The bruise on your face.”

Blue eyes stared at him in confusion and then Atreus raised a hand to his cheek where the skin was still damp from his father’s wet hand. It did, but not as much now.

“Just a little. But that’s all it is,” he said slowly, seeing how Father looked at him with searching eyes. “It’s just a bruise. I will take care of it later.”

That seemed to put his father at ease by how his shoulders slumped slightly and his wide chest heaved with a deep sigh that didn’t escape from his lips.

“Good.” Kratos nodded, leaning back in his seat in a movement that seemed a bit slower than usual. “The fight was long and tough, but you held your ground remarkably,” he said in a flat voice, aware of the eyes fixed on him. He pulled the paddle out of the water and placed it in the bottom of the canoe. “There is still a long way ahead for us and for you, but I see improvement.” He finished, holding Atreus’ gaze with his own.

Atreus blinked once and twice, his lips parting slightly, and he hoped he still wasn’t sleeping.

“I…” he started, the grip on his bow tightening as he watched his father push himself from his seat and onto the similar space where he was curled into until now, sitting with his strong legs prepped over the bench. He was big – so much bigger – than he was, but it seemed good enough for him as he crossed his large arms over his chest and looked at Atreus. “I, uh… I am glad I was of help. Thank you, sir.” He said and gave a shy smile, feeling a wave of warmth flow across his chest.

His father on the other end just nodded again and then wordlessly closed his eyes. Atreus cocked his head, shifting on his spot and sitting back again on the bench. Beside, him Mimír stayed mute like a statue.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Are we not going back to Midgard?”

A sigh rumbled in Kratos’ chest.

“Yes,” the Spartan said slowly. “But let us take this chance to rest. Once we return it is right back to battle.”

Atreus blinked again and, still uncertain, propped his bow on the bottom of the canoe and leaned closer to inspect his father’s face. The canoe swayed slightly with his movement again and he blinked with heavy eyelids, still drowsy from his nap.

Then one olive eye opened to stare at him, studying his face calmly.

“You look tired.”

Atreus’ thin eyebrows raised in surprise and he didn’t know what to say, something not uncommon when it came to his father.

It was true. He was tired. His arms were aching from the long use of the bow and his feet were sore, but if he said he was then what—

Atreus was pulled from his thoughts as Father shifted in his spot again, rolling one arm to the side and freeing a spot next to his large chest. Atreus blinked and quickly raised his eyes to his father’s face again, who returned his gaze for just a second longer before he closed his eyes again without another word.

A breeze blew across the lake and the trees nearby shifted slowly, their rose flowers fluttering in the air before falling in the water. Atreus parted his lips, meaning to say something, but then decided against it.

He turned to glance at Mimír one last time and found him still silent in his spot.

Clenching his fists Atreus stood up from his seat, staring at the spot Father made for him. He carefully leaned over the wooden bench, his hands holding himself as he tried to worm his way into the space beside his father’s chest and not perturb the man at the same time.

Then he got one foot stuck under the other and immediately lost his balance, falling on his hip and making the canoe sway again.

“Ouch.” He groaned under his breath but before he could rearrange himself a huge arm snaked around him and pulled him into a warm chest. “I’m sorry…” he muttered, voice tiny and embarrassed.

Kratos simply grunted, his eyes still closed.

“You would get a sore neck if you slept like that.”

Atreus chuckled, hiding his smile into his father’s chest.

“What is one more sore muscle anyway?”

The hairs of Kratos’ bushy beard moved slightly to the curl of his lips and he pulled his son closer. He had grown a lot, but his boy still snugged perfectly to his side just like years ago when he was still a babe.

“You fought well, Atreus.”

Atreus rested his auburn head on the arm securing him and pressed his bruised cheek against his father’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating through the ruined armor. It was so much better than the cold metal and he could feel the bruise already get better.

“Thanks, Father.” He said and grinned, curling against Father's side even tighter.

The boat swayed again with another breeze, the Álfheimr lake lulling father and son to a restful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this yesterday and hurriedly finished it today after Rafael Grassetti said that Father's Day in the U.S. was today! I will come back here to check for errors and improve some parts later, but I hope you liked it!
> 
> Atreus is just so so so lovely and I absolutely adored Mimír! And what to say about Kratos... What an evolution for him. Never I played a game like God of War (2018) and so obviously I would write a fanfic for these boys! And there will be more coming from me yet!


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